


Little Star

by Infamous_society



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Aragorn is an uncle, Eomer with kids, F/M, Fluff, Pelennor Fields, Post-Lord of the Rings, Rohan, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infamous_society/pseuds/Infamous_society
Summary: Eomer meets his child
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Reader
Kudos: 5





	Little Star

He smiled and it was like a fresh spring cleansing the lands of sorrow. Gone were the days of endless suffering and grief, vanishing into the summer breeze. 

You remembered how you had seen the pain etched in his face as he clutched Theodred’s corpse, the agony as he clutched Éowen’s body. But any trace of agony disappeared into a forgotten age as he gently held his son - your son - in his arms. 

A tear ran down his face as he grinned, his face melting into pure joy. You had been at his side through the chilling winters of the war and kingship but now a fresh summer blew across the endless plains of his face.

Everything seemed so fragile, so tender - as if it could crumble into dust in a second and this was merely a dream and in reality you were dying somewhere on a battlefield, far away from Éomer, far away from your friends and far away from this moment of sweet bliss. 

“He looks like you,” Éomer whispered softly, sweetly, in awe.

You laughed freely, “I would rather he looked like you.”

Éomer just smiled as radiant as the sun that shone gloriously on the green grass of Rohan, the same sun was etched on the banner you and Éomer fought under, bled under, wept under.  
  


His once weary eyes shone with a blinding, all consuming love as a small hand clutched onto his little finger. The same hands that lovingly traced your face, that clutched the reins on the battlefield and wielded many swords and spears. But every brute strength hidden within the plains of his back and his strong hands had vanished as if it had never existed. 

Sunlight filtered in through the room softly, basking the three of you in a golden light. You smelt the familiar smell of leather, horses and lavender, saw the familiar light twinkle in his eyes, felt the familiar ache of overwhelming love and you knew you were home. 

  
  


Once in a distant memory, you saw Éomer riding ahead in the bright morning light, silhouetted against the harsh sky. His helmet cast shadows over his face and the horse hair plume danced in front of him. He was a statue of a warrior, never meant to be a king. But he galloped back towards you fiercely, murmurs of love, of marriage, of children on his lips. Before the war, the grief and the death, but still he was wearied from the grief of life, from the loss of his parents. 

Another memory flickered like a ghost in front of you. A cry rang out through the still of the plains. Legolas and Aragorn had stilled, Gimli grumbling under his breath. Hoofbeats thundered towards you, surrounding the four of you. Spears pointed in your direction, men you had known since childhood threatening you.

“Where is she?” Éomer had spat, quickly dismounting.

But Gimli had spoken and Legolas had drawn his arrow and for a moment you feared you would lose everyone you had grown to love.

Placing your hand on Legolas’ bow, you stepped forward, throwing your hood back. A gasp rippled through the riders, a friend had returned in the midst of the darkness.

“Do not threaten my friends Éomer,” your voice trembled as you tried to remain stoic, “It is not becoming of you.”

An awed look crept on his face but he could not hide the love that lingered. He threw his arms around you tightly, soothing your back as if you too had abandoned him for a lifetime.

“I thought I had lost you,” he drew back, clasping your hands tightly. “I could not lose the future we had dreamed of too.” 

You had dreamed of sunsets by his side, long rides through starlit meadows, children laughing through sunbeams in old halls. Éomer had been at your side in every flicker of hope with murmurs of love and adoration. But Saruman had poisoned the land so you left the man you loved and rode towards Imaldris. 

Grinning, you had swung on to Firefoot as Éomer remained standing. He had frowned teasingly, a child once more.

“The four hunters shall be three hunters for the meanwhile,” your voice was clear. “I will ride with Éomer but I will rejoin your sides in war my friends.”

Your friends suppressed their smiles, their fears.

“And will I be like an uncle to your children?” Aragorn asked teasingly. “Since this is the man you would not stop talking about.” 

Firefoot shifted underneath you as you rolled your eyes, avoiding Éomer’s amused glance. The sun gleamed once more off his armour, his love scorching your soul.

  
  


You blinked and the moments flickered away, as if they had never existed, were merely dreams leading up to the sight in front of you. 

Éomer stood once more silhouetted, but tears ran down his face. Joy clouded his honeyed eyes, delight and happiness evident in his smile.

“Do you remember Aragorn’s request?” His voice was low, tender.

You laughed, “If our son is anything like his father then he too will threaten to kill people who ask for his name.”

“If our son is anything like his mother, even if it is a mere taint of your personality and likeness then that will be enough,” his voice cracked, vulnerable. “But I hope he does not have to find the courage to walk the length of Middle Earth.” 

His face dropped for a split second, but it was not the stubborn, stern expression you had grown used to nor the loving, caring emotions. There was fear lingering in the shadows, fear of disappointing, fear of reliving long forgotten memories.

“You will be a good father Éomer,” you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, your head on his chest. “I hope our children shall never endure your pain.”

And he smiled once more, unspoken words hanging in the air. How you had heard his screams of agony when his father died, he was numb when his mother died. Everything seemed so precious, so tender, ready to disappear in an instant. 

But he chuckled as your child smiled brightly at him. Every fear disappeared into the smoke of long forgotten funeral pyres.

“I feel overwhelmed by every emotion I have ever felt,” his voice trembled slightly. “As if our son is pure starlight and I should protect him from the cruel realities of the world.” 

Turning slightly you heard the familiar beat of hooves across the plains, the smell of leather and lavender close. A ghost flickered in front of your eyes; a young man charging fiercely with a sword in hand, his horse hair plume blowing in his face - _Éomer_. But it was not Éomer, for he watched on with his hand in yours. 

“The days that are now lost and gone always seem as if they were not enough, but I have you in front of me Éomer, I have you and our child in my arms,” you smiled lightly at the man you would destroy oceans for. “That is enough.”

“The darkness has gone,” his reply was short, his voice sweeter than honey and lined with love. 

But every word had been said, every emotion had been seen. A brief moment that had exposed every secret of Éomer’s heart.

The sunlight embraced the three of you peacefully. The moment of tranquility would be etched in your mind forever - the tenderness and the hallowed adoration.

Éomer smiled at your son once more and all was good in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested on tumblr - check out my tumblr @riderofrohirrim


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